


Five Fantastical Flights (The Across the Pond Remix)

by lferion



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, Airplanes, Episode: s02e08 Next Tuesday, Episode: s03e18 Carentan, Episode: s04e07 Icebreaker, F/M, Flying, Helicopters, M/M, Remix, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five parts of a journey by air, from Declan's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Fantastical Flights (The Across the Pond Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Five Fantastical Flights With Drs. Magnus and Zimmerman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/289237) by [missparker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missparker/pseuds/missparker). 



> Many thanks to M & Z, for encouragement and beta-duties.
> 
> The five segments of the original piece are not, insofar as I can tell, actually linked. I altered the placement of one segment on the timeline of the show: 3 in the original is, by internal reference, set in the mid-fourth season. Here it is set mid-third.

* * *

**4\. Icebreaker - Aftermath**

Declan had no issue with flying in a plane piloted by Helen Magnus (or no more issue than any pilot would as passenger, without their own hands on the controls, their own eyes and reflexes and skills in use and immediate observation rather than merely standing by). (Indeed, if Magnus's penchant for flying herself whenever possible arose out of that impulse, Declan was fully sympathetic. And given that she had lived through the entirety of the history of fixed-wing (and for that matter, variable-wing,) flight, participating in much of it, her skill and experience were quite extraordinary, not to mention her number of hours in the air.) No, Declan took no exception to Magnus' piloting. He did wonder if Zimmerman had any real idea what he was letting himself in for. Had already let himself in for. Personally as well as professionally. The man was anything but stupid, anything but unobservant, and while he'd long since stopped disbelieving what he experienced, Declan still occasionally saw the look of 'where on earth am I? And why am I here?' on Will's face, heard it in his voice.

But now Will stepped into the cockpit after Magnus without looking to see if Declan would rather sit co-pilot, as if the second chair was Will's by right. Which, it was, not just because Magnus had in fact bought the plane from the charter company, making it more or less Old City Sanctuary property.

Something had changed between Magnus and Zimmerman, Helen and Will, in the time between the video conference where they'd discussed the final arrangements for this mission (cock up, Alistair would have called it; Declan shut that line of thought down hard) and when they had actually arrived. It was subtle - the real Magnus and Zimmerman, standing a fraction closer to each other, an almost imperceptible edge gone from Zimmerman's voice, a glimmer in Magnus's eye that had been missing since her reappearance. But it had been enough of a difference that they had seemed the interlopers, the copies, the Magoi-imposters, rather than the perfectly constructed figments of their imaginations. 

Declan would have thought that if there hadn't been any resolution of whatever it was between Magnus and Will by now (which Declan had thought he understood after the mess in France, and quickly realized he had no idea what was going on after the even messier mess with Worth and Magnus going missing for … however long she'd been gone/not gone for) a night or two in a place as small and desolate as Wainright Alaska would have made no difference, but apparently it had. 

Still, Declan was not at all sorry to be at the back of the plane rather than the cockpit, keeping himself busy checking the tie-downs for the snowmobiles, trying not to think about the cargo hold and what — who — it contained, living and dead.

The flight was very smooth, the plane landing like a feather on the tarmac in Wainright, and again in Anchorage after a brief stop for refueling and restocking. They would part ways in the morning, back to their own responsibilities.

* * *

**1\. Tuesday Next**

Magnus might be foolhardy, impulsive, resistant to advice and rarely forthcoming as to her plans and intentions (as well as brilliant, beautiful and extraordinarily competent in her confidence), but she was not actually foolish, nor unaware of the need for someone to know — or at least be able to find out without delay — where she was in the event of emergency. 

Declan had seen the report of the Vampire Squid sighting in the Gulf of Mexico, with the additional notation that Old City (that is, Magnus herself) would be retrieving it. Not a surprise, that. He made a note and went on to the next sighting report ( _Odobenus congolis_ , Dingonek or Jungle Walrus, confirmation of previous report), and the one after that (a new colony of pyro-ants, setting up house in a ceramics studio, taking over one of the kilns. Report advisory only, as it seemed the potters were very happy to accommodate the ants, but wanted someone to explain about firing times and the like, not to remove or relocate them.) the report after that (Moon Lions doing well), and the one after that ( _ferox argentea_ seen on Copinsay in the Orkneys, advise?) "Hedgehog holly is not actually our brief, Tammas. You bloody well should know that by now," Declan informed his otherwise empty office with some irritation as he rapidly typed up a note to the errant Tammas. The urgent message light flashed - Jamaica outpost and Cornwall both. A glance told Declan that Jamaica was, once again, a copy-their own idiosyncratic list and not a copy-all on a sighting - sea-scorpions? - but Cornwall was his patch and would have to be dealt with first. Murray stuck his head in saying something about Truro and any thought of Magnus and the cephalopod was subsumed in the rush of work. 

Still, when Freelander called at the ragged end of his day, admirably collected if not precisely calm, to ask if he or his had heard anything from Magnus or Will in the last several hours, they were well late on getting back and hadn't called in either, the report came immediately to mind, along with the cold feeling in his gut that said something had gone wrong. 

"No word from any of my people, but I wouldn't expect there to be. The sighting came in from one of the Mexico City lookouts." Declan stopped, thinking. Kate did not interrupt, and it came to him. "There was something from Jamaica, a report Magnus would not have seen before she left. Sea-scorpions." 

Freelander raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for him to go on. Succinctly he explained about the antipathy between the two species, and the fact that Loren Yohan routinely left Old City (that is, specifically, Helen Magnus) off his distribution lists. She was quick. Her immediate response was "So, not 'what do I do', but 'where do I look.'"

"We look.You aren't alone in this, Freelander."

Sat-cam had caught the flash of explosion from the disused oil-rig, and Kate had the rescue-squad practically in the air before Declan could suggest it. She was quick, competent and a fine addition to Old City's team. She couldn't replace Ashley, but she wasn't trying to, and that made her all the easier to work with.

Declan watched the feed of the rescue, not really wishing he was flying the bird or rappelling down the drop-wire, but remembering when it had been him. It had been a miracle that Magnus had managed to get down into the bottle of the rig — both luck and a testament to her flying ability. It was the look on Zimmerman's face, and the rigidly protective curve of his arm around her that stuck with Declan though. It was a look he knew well.

"You've got quite the ride ahead of you, mate," Declan said to himself as the squad efficiently got both of them into the hovering chopper and the hands of the waiting medics. Quite a ride.

* * *

**3\. Carentan - Long Term Effects**

"How am I going to tell Abby?" Zimmerman's voice was low enough that Declan was fairly sure Will hadn't meant to speak aloud at all. But intentional or not, it would not help to pretend that Declan hadn't heard.

"What about?" It could be any number of things, the better part of a year having passed for him and Magnus in a confined and fraught environment. Declan kept his own voice quiet. Sometimes it helped, to talk. Murray and Ravi had listened to him any number of times, after tense missions, or moments of unexpected success, or days when everything went pear-shaped. He rather hoped Murray would have some time once he got back to London from this debacle. He wasn't ready to think about Ravi. Not yet.

Will was far to exhausted to dissimulate. "Helen. Me." The color that touched his cheeks was not shame, not with the set of his jaw and the directness of his gaze, but embarrassment. 

Declan saved him from having to say anything more. "Small room, one bed?" he said, sympathetically. 

Will nodded, and his gaze returned to the view out the tall windows, the shifting reflections of sunlight through leaves, puffs of cloud moving across the sky. 

"You are not, by a long chalk, the first, nor will you be the last, Sanctuary protege to want or have a relationship with your principal that is more than strictly business," Declan said dryly. 

"You? And _Watson?!_ " The startlement on Will's face that followed the look of dawning realization was almost comical. 

Ha, Mr 'I'm Sherlock Holmes's perceptual and deductive heir, not to mention a trained forensic psychiatrist' had not sussed out _that_ detail. Declan was more than a little pleased to know it, however unreasonable (or frankly, petty,) the thought might be. He was not inclined to laugh, though. More than three years among wonders, and the man's thinking was still remarkably conventional. But the startlement had brought him fully into the present moment, and gotten him thinking, which they were all going to need.

"Yes," Declan said simply, and went on before Will could say anything more. "As for your first question, you talk to her. Think about what you want, and, just, talk to her."

Will was looking at Magnus, still deeply asleep in the next bed. It was a look Declan recognized. 

"Love is not a zero-sum game, you know." Declan offered, "And it doesn't follow neat lines and regulations. Talk to her. To both of them." Declan watched the shutters close behind Will's eyes. He'd said too much. Or not enough. 

Not a problem Declan could solve. But he could give them a little time. Flying commercial had worked before, maybe it would help this time too.

* * *

**2\. Conference Call**

Declan had not expected to be having this conversation with Helen Magnus. Zimmerman, yes, but not Magnus. Yet having it he was. "You don't need me to be telling you he loves you. You know that." You knew well before Zimmerman did, quite possibly cultivated it; certainly did nothing to deliberately discourage the feelings. Because he was watching for it, Declan saw the brief frown that said Magnus was listening, even if she wasn't entirely on board with what he was saying. 

Declan went on, a little surprised at his own mix of feelings, amongst which was a certain ongoing disbelief in his own temerity, and not a little grief that he could not share the sheer absurdity of this entire conversation with James, and even Ravi was unlikely to get the joke. "Go to the conference. The pair of you need the break. Pick apart the presenters, kip in the sun, snog in the loo at 40,000 feet, if that's what it takes." Spend some time in his world, where all worlds intersect, Declan did not say; did not think he needed to say. Surely she saw that Zimmerman was still not wholly comfortable with the daily strangenesses of cryptids and dancing gods, mermaids and vampires and telepathic lichen. Just as well the Old City Sanctuary did not feature a dryad in the garden. "Give him a chance to see Helen, not just Magnus," Declan said finally, "and don't worry about Kate, who is, by the way, getting along with Murray quite terrifyingly well."

That made Magnus laugh, as Declan had intended, and she signed off with a gleam in her eye that would have been quite disconcerting, directed at him. 

'Cat with the cream' was entirely inadequate to describe Magnus the first video call after she and Zimmerman got back from the conference and several days of sun and no pressing responsibilities. Zimmerman, just in the camera's view at her shoulder still looked a little surprised and much more relaxed. They'd had a good time, whatever it was they had or had not chosen to do together. 

But the distance between them was unchanged, there in Magnus' office, though Declan thought he saw something softer in her eyes, warmer in her voice as she waved Will to the camera to say something about the newest developments in cephalopod communication. It seemed commercial flights and academic conferences were discrete in more ways than one.

* * *

**5\. Ever After**

Will, thought Declan, hearing the familiar sounds of well-rehearsed discussion-not-argument behind him, would always be the wanderer-in, the at base ordinary, happily un-extraordinary, human person for whom the underworld, Sanctuary, the world of wonder and terror and astonishment would never be wholly comfortable, wholly _home_ however long he lived in it. He was the Elf-Queen's lover-consort-beloved (that Helen had, did and would love others was neither relevant to or a comment on her love for Will; that he still sometimes struggled with that, and did not always recognize that she shaped (some) of her actions and responses to his sensibilities, out of care for him, was only one part of it, a symptom, however occasionally irritating to Declan himself), had Danced with/for Kali, done and been part of countless things not of the (so called) normal world, yet even after all this time was not of, but only ever in, Helen's realm. 

When James had pulled Declan out of the prospect of dreary retirement, separation from the brotherhood of the Service, it had felt like the first moments of a jump, before the chute opened: free-fall both terrifying and exhilarating. But once past the initial shock, it was like flying, not falling. An unexpected and nigh instant sense of homecoming, as if, despite any outward Otherness, Declan was a changeling returned. That he had no special/abnormal/whatever abilities was entirely irrelevant to the fact that Declan knew himself to be of this world, that things fit, were right, however terrifying, hard, ecstatic, strange or weirdly ordinary.

Declan had literally not noticed that Will's beard had grown in grey, though of course he had observed it. It had looked good on him, which thought Declan had not shared. It was just 'Will's beard,' as significant and noteworthy as Kate's rediscovery of flowing tunic-tops, or Padma's love of painting hir carapace-bumps with different colors of nail polish (currently predominantly an array of very bright greens, with pink and purple accents). Even after 'it's a sign he's getting older/old' had been pointed out to him, Declan didn't entirely fathom why it should be a problem. 

Helen Magnus had always been older, always been likely to maintain youth and vigor, unlined face and unsilvered hair, well beyond Will's or Kate's or Declan's own mortal span. And Magnus' heart was no more fickle than her appearance. Will should certainly know that by now. Will did know, most of the time: he was, after all still on the journey with them, still flying.

* * *


End file.
